


MIYABI NIGHT

by StoriesAndMagic



Category: Arashi (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, Magic, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2019-10-29 20:45:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 10,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17815217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StoriesAndMagic/pseuds/StoriesAndMagic
Summary: Their eyes met one morning and they keep searching for each other until Fate reunites them.Inspired by the lyrics of the song Miyabi Night. Hence the title.





	1. Sakura.

As soon as he stepped into Ueno park, Masaki felt at home. He had his doubts when he arrived to the big metropolis. Everything was overwhelming, huge, scary, it felt like being in a kaiju movie with all those monster buildings everywhere. But he soon found places of peace: temples, empty streets, small shops and cafes where he could drink, eat and read. And the parks, those urban forests where flora and fauna lived minding their own business, clueless about the city and its troubles.

 

Museums also grew in Ueno Park, the most famous being the Tokyo National Museum, with all its grandeur and pomposity. Masaki enjoyed the little art expositions or the street art, despite of being of the opinion that the real art was life itself. Art was those sakuras startting to bloom all around the park. Art were the kind, big eyes he had met one day at one of the coffeehouses near the park. He had lifted his eyes from the book he was reading and they collided with those dark orbs almost hidden by brown bangs. He had blinked and they were gone. He looked around but found no one. “If I was an artist I could paint them” – He thought – “But I’ll keep them in my mind. A painting can never do them justice.”

 

Masaki continued his stroll across the park in search of a place where he could showcase his abilities. He was a juggler and a magician. That was his way of living. He earned enough money with his performances in the parks or theatres to subsist. He didn’t need luxuries or comforts. He only needed a bed, food and books. Not even a roof over his head. Sometimes, sleeping under the stars was the best cure for everything. 

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

\- Sakurai-san – Yoshida’s voice threw him out of the reverie. – I apologise for bothering you, but director-sama thinks it would be a good idea if we could get Ohno Satoshi-san to do a speech at the inauguration day.  
Sho Sakurai looked at the man in front of him and sighed.  
\- A contemporany artist like him wouldn’t want anything to do with an exposition about the art of Miyabi.  
\- Director-sama thinks that because he’s popular, he’ll attract publicity.  
Sakurai sighed again and stopped himself before cursing.  
\- We don’t need publicity. It’s an exposition at the Ueno Royal Museum, tourists will flock to it.  
Yoshida-san shrugged and sipped his coffee. The black liquid on Sakurai’s cup was cooling and the piece of strawberry cheesecake was left untouched. Sakurai had his eyes fixed on an empty spot inside the coffeehouse.  
It was the same every morning. Sakurai-san insisted on going for breakfast there and he kept staring towards that place. Yoshida-san was his assistant and knew Sakurai for a long time: he was a bit weird so he didn’t make anything of it but it was annoying.  
\- Can we go back to the museum? – He finally asked. Sakurai-san remained in silence.  
\- Do you believe in ghosts? - He said suddenly.  
Yoshida-san couldn’t answer, it was such an odd question even for Sakurai.  
\- Or spirits or angels?  
\- Sumimasen, Sakurai-san, but I think you should eat your breakfast before speaking more.  
Sakurai-san smiled and pointed one finger to his head.  
\- I have some loose screws, I know.  
Yoshida-san relaxed and laughed. They finished their snacks and left. Sakurai checked the whole place before stepping outside.


	2. Mr. Funk.

A four violins chamber orchestra played in the entrance hall of the museum. Another idea from Director-sama to get more visitors. Masaki stopped to listen to them. It was melancholic music, evoking past times. It reeked of ancient, of something stuck in time. “Why would they want him there?” He thought. He had a sort of work interview that morning. One of the museum managers had seen one of his performances in the park, had liked it and wanted him performing for a certain exposition.

 

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

 

\- A conjuror? – Shouted Sakurai from behind his desk at the museum office. – Don’t tell me Director- sama agrees with it.  
Yoshida-san sat in front of his assistee and smiled.  
\- He does actually. You should see him: he’s good, he juggles, does magic tricks and he’s attractive.  
\- A juggler? – Sakurai put his hands on his head. He was feeling scandalised.  
\- The art of Miyabi is refined, classy, aristocratic. What would a joker add to it?  
\- An edge? – Yoshida-san was trying to convince himself as well as Sakurai.  
\- This is revenge, isn’t it? – Continued Sakurai – I refused to contact Ohno-san for the inauguration and this is how Director-sama pays me back.

Sho wasn’t a conventional guy but he took his work very seriously. He didn’t understand the need to look for something else apart from the sheer beauty of the arts and crafts that would be exposed. He got up, left the office and walked to the room where the exposition was going to be held. Some of the objects, paintings and fabrics were already there. He stopped in front of a big mural, his favourite. It represented the four seasons: the whites and snowy mountains, the pinks and sakura flowers, the yellows and a red sun, the brown and the leaves falling. It fascinated him because the artist had managed to capture the impermanence of things and the eternity at the same time. He pointed at it.  
\- This doesn’t need artifice. I refuse having someone here playing with cards and tossing oranges.

....................................................................................................................................................................................................................

 

When he realised it, Masaki was signing a contract with the museum for the duration of the Art of Miyabi exposition. They weren’t going to pay him much but he was going to have a steady job for a couple of months, plus the chance of showing his art to numerous people. He shook the hands of the manager who congratulated him.  
\- Mr. Funk will surely charm everyone who comes here. – Masaki told him.  
\- Indeed, indeed.

 

When he left the office and walked across those long, unpolluted corridors, Masaki snorted. It was ironic that he who despised ART was going to work for those guarding the sanctity of ART. But Mr. Funk was like a Hamelin flautist and he was going to cast a spell over that place.

\- Perhaps I can summon those eyes. – He said to the sky when he stepped out of the building and into the back garden.  
Green was everywhere, big trees and small flowers, insects moving around excitedly. As if Spring had already settled there. Masaki knew instinctively this was going to be his refuge from then on. A nice spot to read, write, practice and live.

 

Sho had just seen the name Mr. Funk printed on some flyers to be distributed and didn’t know whether to laugh madly or to weep. He was walking hurriedly through the corridors towards Director-sama office to have a few words with him, when something caught his eye. One of the windows of the back garden was semi open, the rays of sun drew rainbow coloured lines on the glass and Sho saw a figure merging with the vegetation. Tall, brown hair brushed in bangs, a beautiful profile, like that of an ancient emperor, baggy clothes. He ran to the window but the figure had disappeared. He turned away from it and hurried to the garden. Once there, he looked around but found no one. He sat on the grass for a long time until Yoshida-san came in search of him.  
\- What happened? – He asked.  
\- I saw the ghost. The ghost is here. – Was Sho’s reply.


	3. Bolero.

The clock ticked, it was already midnight. Sho was still in the museum, finishing the retouches of the exposition. The inauguration was the next morning and he wanted everything to be perfect. He felt a little bit defeated by Director-sama’s additions, but he was going to do his best for it to work out.   
He checked the back garden before calling a taxi to get back home. Yoshida-san was right: Sho was living under so much tension and stress he was starting to see things.

 

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

 

Mr. Funk was ready to reveal himself at the Ueno Royal Museum that morning. Masaki had booked a room in a small traditional hotel near the park. With his new wage he could pay for it. He strolled around the park before going to the museum. Birds were chirping as if welcoming him, a soft breeze was running around with him. He stopped in front of two trees standing tall and close together like lovers. The morning sun was infiltrating through the little space between the two trunks, watching him like the Eye of Ra. Masaki smiled.

\- Who needs the artifice of art when you have this?

He took a deep breath to get the energy of the sun in his being and continued his walk to the museum.

 

Once there, he was greeted by a middle-aged man all suited up. He introduced himself as Yoshida-san and accompained him to the changing room where Masaki would transform into Mr. Funk. When he was ready, Masaki entered the exposition room. It was empty except for Yoshida-san who couldn’t help but roll his eyes when he saw Mr. Funk’s attire. Masaki was wearing black pants in the style of Middle-East, a huge belt over his bare stomach and a colourful jacket. He was barefoot and his chest was exposed but, for some reason, Yoshida-san thought, he wasn’t out of place there.

Masaki stopped in front of a huge mural on one of the walls. He observed it carefully. The whites and the pinks and the yellows and the browns took him to another time, to something eternal.  
\- I could have painted it. This goes beyond art. – He said.  
\- It’s also the favourite of Sakurai-san, the manager of the exposition.  
\- Who created it? – Asked Masaki.  
\- Unknown. Miyabi artists tended to not care for their recognition but for the art in itself.  
Masaki nodded.   
\- Like nature. It only cares for its creation.

 

Somebody entered the room. His gaze instantly fixed on that figure in front of the mural. It was his ghost. Sho couldn’t help but gasp loudly. The figure turned his head towards that gasp and was left open mouthed when he realised those big, gentle eyes he once saw at the coffee shop were staring at him.  
Yoshida-san broke the spell that suddenly had taken over the room.  
\- Sakurai-san, may I introduce you to the juggler and illusionist I talked to you about?  
Masaki smiled broadly and said:  
\- I think we already know each other.  
Sho couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. He wasn’t crazy after all, he wasn’t seeing things. His ghost was very much alive. He didn’t pay attention to Yoshida-san and walked to stand by the juggler in front of the mural.  
\- It’s such a brilliant work of art, isn’t it? – He said pointing at it.  
\- Indeed. I was admiring it. It surprised me.  
Sho looked at Masaki and he noticed he was more beautiful than he remembered.  
\- It’s eternity made into art.  
Masaki scrunched up his nose:  
\- I think that the artist was trying to represent nature as it is.  
He paused, looked at Sho and had to compose himself a little because Sakurai-san was so handsome, but continued:  
\- This work certainly has a lot of magic in it.

They looked at each other, mesmerised. They felt something familiar. As if they had met each other before in another time, in another place.

\- Gentlemen, I’m sorry to interrupt you, but we have to get ready. The museum is going to open in half an hour.

The two looked at Yoshida-san and nodded at the same time. The man felt satisfied. Both the manager and the juggler seemed content with everything.


	4. Akatsuki.

The inauguration was a success. People were interested and willing to know more about Miyabi Art. Mr. Funk’s little performace was simply beautiful and perfect. The four violins chamber orchestra played Morning from Grieg’s famous suite while the illusionist was doing his tricks and jugglery. Director-sama gave a speech and so did Sakurai-san. He remarked the simplicity of Miyabi works, the value those artists and crafters gave to art in itself. At the end of the day, all of them were satisfied with the results.

 

It was late afternoon, the museum was about to close for the day. Masaki had changed from his Mr. Funk attire into comfortable clothes and was admiring once more that splendid mural. Sho walked closer to him to tell him they had to leave.  
\- Does it have a title?  
\- Some scholars name it Miyabi Night. But as the artist is unknown so it’s its real name. – Sho replied.  
Masaki turned around. Their eyes met again.  
\- Is there any way to find who was the artist?  
Sho chuckled:  
\- Hardly. There’s a lot os published material on it but nothing concrete.  
Masaki looked intently at Sho’s face: those big, intelligent eyes, that cute nose, those full, erotic lips.  
\- Are you sure we haven’t met before? – He asked suddenly.  
Sho hesitated but finally replied:  
\- I think we did in that coffeehouse nearby.  
Masaki nodded and stepped closer to Sho.  
\- It’s time to start leaving if we don’t want to get locked inside this building.  
Makaki laughed and took Sho hand while walking outside.  
\- You know? I once thought the museum was haunted. – Sho told him. He had never felt happier in his whole life.

 

Sho invited Masaki to dine at his favourite Italian restaurant and he accepted. They talked about their different views on art and life over a steaming plate of carbonara spaguetti, some burrata and delicious red wine.

Sho didn’t know if it was the wine that had gone to his head but he ended up in his apartment, on his bed, with Masaki. Their clothes all over the floor in his room. It had been ages since the last time he had had sex, but it felt as if he had had sex with Masaki forever. He wanted more and more and he whimpered asking for it. Kissing him was like drinking from a fountain of fresh water. Licking his skin was like sliding across wet grass. Masaki grabbed him by the buttocks and pushed him inside his body. Sho paused before moving because he was starting to lose control. He made love to Masaki slowly, he didn’t want it to end.

Masaki was more drunk from the smell of Sho than from the wine. He was so passionate, so handsome, he had such a soft white skin Masaki was weeping. For some reason, when he closed his eyes while Sho was plunging into him, he saw that cave in Chiba where the rays of the sun enter and illuminate the water stream there.

They climaxed together, clinging to each other for dear life. Then, fell asleep in each other’s arms.

 

The orange light of dawn made Sho blink his eyes open. Masaki was sleeping peacefully by his side. He disentangled from his body and sat on the bed. He had had a strange dream. He was standing in front of a cave and the rays of the sun were penetrating inside, water washed his feet as he walked over the rocks and stones. He was looking for someone or something but couldn’t find it.

Sho got up and took a shower. The dream still as vivid as the sex he had had last night. When he walked back into his bedroom, Masaki was already awake. He was watching him while he dressed up:  
\- You’re so beautiful. You should be an artist muse.  
Sho felt awkward, he swallowed and spoke:  
\- I don’t normally do this. I don’t usually hook up with people I just met.  
Masaki chuckled and stretched on the bed.  
\- I do it from time to time. It’s fun.  
Suddenly, all the weight of what they had done fell on Sho.  
\- We have to work together. I like you, you’re a good boy, but we can’t keep this.  
Masaki pouted which caused Sho to want to throw himself at him again.  
\- It’s a pity because you’re a great lay. But I get it. As I thought, all of you museum people are snotty and uptight.  
He got up, walked to the bathroom, got himself cleaned and dressed and walked back to Sho’s bedroom to inform him he was leaving and he was going to have breakfast on his way to Ueno. Sho tried to stop him, to apologise, but he was so confused, so paralised. He didn’t understand what was happening to him. It was as if he was indeed being haunted by a ghost.  
Masaki’s eyes were full of anger when he told him:  
\- Real Art is life. This is what all of you, pretentius people, don’t understand.  
He slammed the door when he left the apartment. Sho didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He picked himself up, took his phone and briefcase and left as well. Thankfully, his work at the museum that day had nothing to do with Miyabi and he could avoid Mr. Funk.


	5. Japonesque.

Mr. Funk finished his performance and a round of applause and cheers from the children visiting that morning was the best reward. He highfived them and told them to enjoy the exposition. He looked at Director-sama who was gesturing for him to tell the children more. Mr. Funk smiled and pointed at the big mural:  
\- There was a time when time didn’t exist. Everything was just a moment and eternity was everything.  
The kids were watching the mural in awe.  
\- There was a time – he continued – when the seasons were riding a merry-go-round until it stopped and then the seasons were given names: Natsu, Aki, Fuyu and Haru.  
The kids smiled and the teachers looked satisfied with his story. It was past the time Mr. Funk’s little performance had to end, but nobody was moving. They were all waiting for more of his story.

 

Sho heard Masaki’s voice when he walked by the exposition room. He felt tempted to stop and listen. The public was oohhing and giggling but he wanted nothing to do with him. He almost ran to his office where he had some mails to reply to and an appointment with the director of the department of arts of the University of Tokyo.

 

Suddenly, during the meeting, Sho asked a strange question:  
\- Kondo-san, you know we’re exhibiting that excellent mural as the peak of Miyabi art, right? The one with the four seasons. I have read plenty about it but do you know if there’s any definitive conclusion on who the artist might be?  
The woman looked at Sho as if he was a being from another planet.  
\- What got into you, Sakurai-san? We were discussing a future collaboration, nothing to do with your current work here.  
\- I know, I know, I was just wondering.  
Something definitely had gotten into him. He couldn’t stop thinking about the mural, that dream and how both things were somehow connected. He couldn’t stop thinking about that night with Masaki, how careless he had been, how stupid.  
\- I can hook you up with one of our experts if you’re that interested. – Offered Kondo-san.  
Sho refused politely and apologised. But he couldn’t get out of his head the nagging need to find out. He had always loved that mural and he himself had made sure it was included in the exposition as the central piece but he never had gone beyond admiration for the beauty of it, for its profound meaning. He knew a lot about Miyabi and its artists: some had names, others were anonymous but he never really cared. Until the ghost manifested himself. Until the illusionist performed some magic trick on him.

 

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

 

Masaki walked out of the Ueno Royal Museum with a smile on his face. He felt so content after the more than satisfactory experience with the school children. He thanked Director-sama profusely for allowing him to tell a story and was grateful to the kami for the success of it. Director-sama told him he was going to consult with Sakurai-san about the storytelling because it fit well in the exposition and Mr. Funk was good at it.  
Masaki went for some ramen and then took a taxi to the University of Tokyo. He had something on his mind and would not stop until he could find an answer. 

 

When he arrived, he grimaced at the old, severe looking building. It represented everything he hated: it was the plastic representation of the petrified formal arts. He felt as being swallowed by a huge stone kaiju when he entered the campus but the trees made him feel comfortable.  
Once inside the library, he searched for anything on Miyabi and was surprised to discover most of Miyabi works dated from the Heian period. Miyabi Night, the title scholars gave to the mural, was featured in all the texts, thesis, books and articles on the aesthetic movement. But nothing on any probable author. When he was about to give up, as it was getting late, Masaki found an old article on a magazine about a poem dated in 1115 whose author had just signed as Sakurai. The name made Masaki raise his eyebrows. The poem was short and concise:  
“There's that place where water placidly reflects the sky, where grass and stones become steps of the path of life, where trees reach out to the human soul.”  
The article argued that the poem and the mural had many similarities and perhaps that ‘Sakurai’ author was the same artist who painted it.  
Masaki let out a loud ‘eureka’ which earned him some looks of disaproval from the other students.

He asked to borrow the magazine but was told it could not leave the campus and that all material of the library could be found on the internet. He ran outside the building to call Sho when he remembered things hadn’t ended well between them and that he didn’t have his phone number anyway.  
Why was he feeling so happy for his discovery? Why did he care whether Sakurai-san knew or not? Why was he so fascinated by that mural? Art wasn’t his thing after all. As he always repeated, art was life. So why did he suddenly care for an art work? He pushed all those thoughts out of his mind and took another taxi downtown. He was going to have a night of fun without that snotty museum employe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is getting epic. Please, forgive me if my knowledge of Japan's history and Japan's artistic movements is inaccurate.
> 
> I don't even know if the Sakurai surname was already present in Heian period.


	6. Masquerade.

Sho entered his apartment trying not to fall. He had drank too much beer at the ramen place where he had encountered Ohno Satoshi-san who invited him to a round of sake. They exchanged private phone numbers. Thankfully, the artist hadn’t landed on his bed like the jugglar did.  
\- When did I became so careless? – He asked to nobody while undressing and preparing the bath.

 

He let himself be engulfed by the hot water and the scents of the bath salts. His head was spinning and his stomach a bit queasy, but he was sure the bath would help him with the hangover. He closed his eyes and dozed off.  
Suddenly, he was in that cave again. A glorious sun illuminating every corner. He knew that place, he had seen photographs, it was a famous power spot in Chiba. Somebody was there with him. A brilliant smile like that of the sun king, a warm hand on his hair. A voice.  
\- We’ll meet again.  
Masaki. Masaki. Masaki.  
His lips were forming that name over and over again, until he woke up and realised the water was cooling off and he had been speaking in dreams. Sho got out, dried himself up, took an aspirin and went to bed hoping for a dreamless night.

 

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

 

Masaki had been talking to the History student for a couple of hours. He was tall and gorgeous and had told him to call him Kotaki-kun. It was obvious they were interested in each other but Masaki wasn’t sure the guy was up for a one night stand. He wasn’t even sure he was up for it either. They had been dancing at the club, had went outside for a walk and had ended up seated on a bench in front of the bay.  
\- What do you know about Heian period? – Masaki asked suddenly.  
Kotaki-kun looked at him surprised.  
\- Never mind. – Masaki gestured with his hand.  
They remained silent for a while, looking at the sea. The lights of the city reflected on its black surface, like another firmament with its stars.  
\- That would make a great mural. – Masaki finally broke the silence – The sky up above and the sky under it.  
The boy was looking at Masaki as if he was a strange being.  
\- Are you an artist? – He asked.  
\- Sort of. I wish I could paint……Or not. I despise art.  
He got up, kissed the boy on the cheek and told him:  
\- I’d ask for your phone number, but I won’t call you so it’s better to leave it here.  
Kotaki-kun nodded. They shook hands and went separate ways.

 

It was almost 3 in the morning and Masaki had to entertain the public at the museum in a few hours. He wasn’t sleepy, he wasn’t tired, he only wanted to walk and soak himself in the city. Tokyo could be intoxicating, gentle and aggressive at the same time, charming and aloof, just like a certain museum manager.

On his way to the Tokyo labyrinths, he spotted a billboard advertising the charms of Chiba. A huge picture of Kameiwa Cave stopped him. It was years since last time he had visited it. For some reason, it was in his mind lately and now destiny was sending him a kind of sign. He promised to himself he was going back to Chiba when his contract with the museum finalised. A feeling of nostalgia swept over him, like a wind from the past. Masaki looked up to the sky and said:  
\- Are you sure we haven’t met before, Sakurai-san?

Then, he took a taxi and prayed he remembered correctly where Sho’s apartment was.

 

 

A repetitive buzzing sound was infiltrating Sho’s head. He jumped out of bed thinking it was his alarm clock but then realised it was the door buzzer.  
\- What the…..?  
He pressed it and a too familiar voice spoke:  
\- I don’t have your phone number so I couldn’t text you.  
Sho hesitated but finally opened the door.  
\- What do you want?  
The jugglar couldn’t help but stare at the naked Sakurai in front of him. Sho had forgotten he had went to bed with no clothes on.  
\- You’re so damn beautiful. – He whispered while stepping closer.  
Sho stepped back:  
\- I’m not making love to you. I think I made myself clear.  
Masaki shook his head and walked past him to sit on the sofa.  
\- I found something. Miyabi Night might be a creation of a Heian period poet named, interestingly enough, Sakurai.  
Sho had gone to his bedroom to put some pajamas on. He wasn’t feeling hungover nor tired.  
\- It’s four in the morning, Masaki. – He said while going to prepare coffee.  
\- But I needed to tell you. The name Sakurai caught my attention. We can research from there to discover who really painted that mural.  
Sho put his hands on his face. It was so surreal.  
\- But why? – He asked in exasperation- Why this obsession to know who? It doesn’t matter.  
\- It matters to me!- Masaki screamed.  
Sho walked closer to him and, without realising it, he cupped his face.  
\- Why? – He whispered.  
\- Because…..I feel it has to do with me…..and you. – Masaki whispered back.  
Sho shook his head and let go of him. The ghost was haunting them. He was sure they were under the influence of a vengeful spirit. He had worked hard to prepare the exposition but now he was wishing it was over and that mural returned to the Chiba Museum of Art, where it came from.  
\- Will you come with me to Chiba? – Masaki asked suddenly.  
Sho almost choked on his coffee. He was going to repeat ‘why?’ but he was tired of uttering the same question over and over again with no result.  
\- I’m from Chiba. I miss it. – Masaki hesitated before continuing – And I will miss you if you decide to stay here.  
Sho dropped the cup of coffee that splashed on the floor. He ran to Masaki, cupped his face again but this time to kiss him on the lips. When they parted, Sho’s voice trembled:  
\- We can’t do this. I don’t do this. It’s wrong. 

 

While making love, Sho couldn’t stop thinking how doomed they were. The ghost had took over them and was playing them like puppets on a string.


	7. Kimi e no omoi.

In the morning, when they were getting ready to go back to woirk, Sho kept babbling about the impossibility of their relationship, about how they were co-workers and it wasn’t right. Masaki simply looked at him and smiled. He wasn’t going to let go of Sakurai-san now thay he had found him.

 

They went for breakfast to the coffeehouse where their eyes had met for the first time. Sho tried to hide himself from the presence of Yoshida-san. The man would put two and two together if he spotted them and he didn’t want an scandal at the museum.  
\- I think that Heian period poet named Sakurai might be one of your ancestors. – Masaki explained while savouring some pancake.   
Sho put the cup of hot coffee delicately on the table. He was trying to not lose his temper.  
\- Sakurai is a very common family name in Japan. And we’re talking about Heian period. Middle Ages, Masaki, Middle Ages. – His voice raised its tone a bit which made the other sigh exasperated.  
\- Don’t you want to know? You’re in the research field, it should be part of your nature.  
Sho finished his slice of apple pie and looked at his watch.  
\- We better get going.  
\- Sho. – Masaki whispered – Why are you making it so difficult?  
The museum manager looked him in the eyes for a brief moment and then looked at his empty cup.  
\- Not here. This is the last place I want to fight with you.  
\- Sho – the jugglar repeated – I really believe…..  
Sakurai-san interrupted him leaning over the table closer to him:  
\- Do you want to know what I believe? I believe that bloody mural is haunted, it’s a cursed object and we’re being affected by it.  
He got up, grabbed his briefcase and left.  
Masaki remained on his seat for a a couple of minutes. He didn’t know whether to laugh or to entertain that thought. Something was definitely up with Miyabi Night, it was taking over his mind and even his life. He was thinking in going back to Chiba because the cave and the mural were somehow related.

 

.................................................................................................................................................................................................................

 

Masaki as Mr. Funk was watching the artwork once more before the public was let into the room. Natsu, Aki, Fuyu and Haru were represented so brilliantly as well as…..Eien.  
Masaki was in the middle of his performance when he felt like telling one of his stories. He stopped one of his magic tricks and looked at the audience composed by some foreing tourists, some elders and some teenagers.  
\- Then one day, Eien decided to bind people through space and time.   
The audience gasped. Masaki was shaking and on the verge of tears. He was sure he was getting a fever. But he continued:  
\- So powerful Eien bound souls together. Souls that would meet over and over again.  
The audience started applauding and Masaki felt ill. Director-sama who attended his performances every time he could, approached him and patted him on the back.  
\- You should write those stories, kid. We can talk about that later.  
Masaki’s knees gave up and he collapsed on the floor.  
Paramedics were called and he was rushed to the hospital.

 

......................................................................................................................................................................................................................

 

Sho was in his office answering some mails and phone calls to try and close the collaboration with Tokyo University. At the same time, he was contacting its literature department to gather more information on that obscure Heian period poet named Sakurai. He heard ambulance sirens but didn’t pay attention. The morning was splendid, the sun was penetrating in the room through the window, touching it with light and warmth. He left his desk and opened it: Ueno park’s myriad of scents came rushing to him. Spring was being all coquette and had started to sprinkle its magic everywhere.

Yoshida-san entered and informed him about the recent events and that Aiba-san was at the hospital. Sho, for an instant, felt he was going crazy. His first instinct was to run to the Miyabi exposition room and to destroy that cursed painting, but he stopped himself. That would earn him time in prison and completely erase his reputation. He remained calm and told Yoshida-san he had to finish his work and that he would go to the hospital later. When the man left, Sho turned his gaze towards the window and saw how the frame and the rays of the sun bursting through it were the image of that cave in his dreams. He closed it violently, making the glass rattle, and got back to his mails and phone calls.

 

Sho arrived to the hospital in the late afternoon. Director-sama was at the waiting room, he informed him he had spoken with the doctors and it seemed Aiba-san might had gotten some sort of virus. Director-sama explained he was trying to contact Aiba’s family, but he didn’t know anything anout him, nobody did. Sho replied he didn’t know either. He clenched his teeth when admitting it. Masaki was just a stranger with whom he had had sex a couple of times, much to his dismay.   
\- He mentioned he’s from Chiba. – Sho offered.  
Director-sama nodded.  
\- We’re on it. It seems there’s an Aiba family near Kameiwa cave.  
Sho felt as if lightning had struck him. That was the place of his dreams, the place he had seen on pictures many times but could not locate. That was the place where Masaki came from. Why? What was happening? Why was everything connected? He was lost, tired and his heart was aching for Masaki.

Director-sama got a call from his secretary and excused himself. Sho gathered strength and asked to see the patient. The nurse told him he had regained conscience but still had a fever which made him speak incoherently.  
Masaki was asleep when Sho came in the room. He could barely look at him, he was feeling so guilty, so crushed. Masaki blinked and opened his beautiful almond eyes. He fixed them on Sho and smiled. Sho saw they were glazed and his face was flushed.  
\- My dear Sakurai-san – he said softly – finally. I knew we were going to meet again….  
Sho tried to quieten him.  
\- I didn’t think it would take such a long time. – Masaki continued. – How many eras have passed since Heian?  
Sho shook his head violently.  
\- Don’t.  
\- Did you keep my painting with you? It didn’t have a name, remember? Nameless things get lost in space and time.  
Sho felt like crying, What the hell was happening to them?  
He took the hand that Masaki was moving closer to him.  
\- I kept it. I have it with me. – He replied without even thinking.  
Masaki smiled and closed his eyes again. Sho let go of the hand and left the room in tears.


	8. Furusato

Darkness. Like that of the cave. A dim light reaching out to him. Like the rays of the sun. Beeping sounds, muffled voices. Cold. Like the water around his feet. But he wasn’t in the cave back in Chiba, he was in a hospital room. He realised it the moment he could focus his vision on his surroundings. He remembered feeling unwell, his legs shaking and then blackness. But now he knew everything.   
Masaki smiled and whispered:  
\- I painted it.

 

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

 

Sakurai-san hated the museum, hated the damned exposition and hated that horrible mural. Mr. Funk performances had been cancelled, but the tourists and locals kept coming. The specialised press had visited numerous times to write articles about it. Sho was fed up.  
But he finished early that afternoon and headed to the Tokyo University. He knew some scholars there, he needed to ask them a few questions.   
After a couple of hours, he left the literature department building even more confused.  
Sho took a taxi to the hospital. When he walked into Masaki’s room, the patient was already seated on the bed drinking some liquids. He smiled at him and Sho sighed in telief.  
\- Have they called your family?  
\- Why? I’m fine.  
\- They need to know.  
Masaki shook his head.  
\- The doctor said it’s some type of flu, nothing serious. I’ll call my mother myself when I go back to work.  
Sho sat on one of the chairs and held his hands.  
\- You’re not going back to work.  
Masaki raised his eyebrows.  
\- I’ve been fired?  
\- No. But I won’t allow you back. You need to be as far from that painting as possible.  
Masaki giggled.  
\- But it’s my painting!  
Sho untangled their hands and caressed Masaki’s cheek carefully.  
\- You’re Aiba Masaki, juggler and magician. Your alter ego is named Mr. Funk and you come from Chiba. You’re not an obscure Heian period artist.  
Masaki laughed even louder and then lowered his voice to speak.  
\- I’m all that and I’m also Aiba Masaki, famous artist from Chiba during the Heian period. I created masterpieces that were either lost or destroyed during Japan’s wars. Except for one, untitled, known now as Miyabi Night.  
Sho got up. He was getting nervous, desperate.  
\- We shouldn’t talk about this here.  
Sho sat back down. Defeated.  
\- It’s weird. I’ve just been to Tokyo Universtty. I’ve spoken with some acquaitances and they just told me that about the poem and the poet.  
Masaki tried to get up off the bed but got a little dizzy. Sho helped him and was surprised when the patient embraced him. Masaki whispered in his ear:  
\- We were lovers. We are soulmates. We promised ourselves that no matter what, we would find ourselves through space and time, over and over again. Now we’re back in each other’s arms.  
Sho kissed his hair softly. He felt a bit embarrassed anc cautious. But he knew those words were right. The dreams, the attraction the first time they met, the fascination they were feeling for that mural. Everything made sense.  
\- You have to rest and get well. We’ll discuss about this when you return.  
They separated and Sho accompained him back to the bed.  
When he was about to leave the room, Masaki murmured:  
\- I have always loved you, Sakurai-san.  
Sho stopped at the door, gulped and then, replied:  
\- Me too, Aiba-san. From the first time I laid eyes on you painting at the Kimitsu forest.

 

Outside, the night was looming and Sho knew it was going to be another sleepless one. He broke down in the street. He couldn’t contain the tears and the pain mixed with joy. He didn’t understand what was happening but he instinctively knew it was the truth. He knew he was going to leave the museum for a while when the exposition finished, that he was going to travel to Chiba to trace his past life. It was a new era, a new life, a new Sakurai Sho. But they had met again just like they were meant.

 

He went back to the museum. It was already empty and it felt alien to him. He headed to the exhibition room and stood in front of the mural.  
Natsu: The joy of love, of life, of youth. Careless kisses under the sun.   
Aki: Peace. Forest fruits. The winds of change.  
Fuyu: Cold. Ice. White on white. Death.  
Haru: The blooming of flowers. Fresh kisses from the clouds. Rebirth.  
Eternity materialised in the colours of the seasons, in each stroke of the brush, in the soul of the artwork. Eternity there for them both.  
Sho broke down again:  
\- Finally. Finally. I was so loneky here without you.


	9. The Deep End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm quite ignorant on history of Japan so I apologise for my inaccuracy.   
> This chapter is a bit sad so be warned.

CHIBA. HEIAN PERIOD.

 

Aiba-san was frantically hiding his possesions inside a hole he had digged in the humid soil of the cave. It weren’t coins nor jewels, it weren’t riches but his art, borne from his soul. It felf as if his organs were being ripped out of his body, he felt empty, hurt. But he knew they would be secure there. The kami of the cave would protect them. 

 

He kneeled and prayed:  
\- May Sakurai-san destiny and mine be one for all eternity.   
He still didn’t know what to do with the big mural he had recently finished. Sakurai-san loved it and praised it constantly.  
\- Natsu has the warmth of your hands. Aki has the colours of your eyes. Fuyu has the whiteness of your skin and Haru has the perfume of your hair. – He had told him making him blush.  
\- I’m the poet not you. – Replied Sakurai.  
\- Poetry expresses itself in many forms.   
The artist smiled remembering those conversations. The afternoon light was playing on the water inside the cave, forming colourful diamonds in the air. 

 

The sound of steps alerted him. Sakurai-san’s voice made him feel safe.  
\- The rebellious troops are approaching the village.  
\- This is why I need to leave.  
The other man walked carefully over the slippery soil until he reached him. Then hugged him while kissing him passionatley.  
\- I can’t live without you.  
\- Sho – whispered Aiba-san. – I promise you we won’t ever be separated.  
Sho nodded but he didn’t believe him. Aiba Masaki was leaving him alone in Chiba to deal with the new political status quo. He was a poet, a teacher not a man of law, but he had been appointed as a representative in the region of the new shogunate.  
\- My family supported the demoted shogun. My parents have sailed to China with my brother and his wife. I have a death sentence hanging over my head. I can’t stay and I can’t drag you with me.  
Sakurai kissed him again. He wanted to make love to him for the last time, but it was dangerous. The samurai clan could reach them any moment.  
\- I wouldn’t mind if they kill us. At least, we’d die together. – Sho said.  
Aiba shook his head:  
\- I can’t allow it. You have to take care of it. Of my beloved creation. Keep it with you.  
Sho knew he was talking about that gorgeous mural. He would convince the rebels it was an ancient gift from his grandfather. He would keep it close to him in his bedroom as a token of his love for the artist.  
Tears welled up in his eyes:  
\- I will protect it with my whole being until the day you come back and claim it.  
Aiba-san smiled through his own tears and raised one hand to caress Sho’s hair.  
\- We’ll meet again. – He told him.  
Then, he released himself from the embrace and ran into the depths of the cave, his figure disappearing in the darkness. It was the last thing Sakurai Sho saw of him.  
\- Masaki.

 

Masaki never came back. Sho never knew what had happened. He probably was caught and murdered or his ship sank in the sea. Or maybe he met a nice girl, made her his wife and formed a family. Sho liked to think it was the last option. Liked to think he was happy and surrounded by people who loved him.

 

..................................................................................................................................................................................................................

 

One day, years after Masaki’s departure, an elder monk visited the Sakurai household.  
Sho’s work was basically that of an scribe, copying legal documents and ordinations from the shogunate. He still wrote poetry about that magical cave in which the rays of the sun penetrated, about the forests and the beautiful being that still haunted his dreams with his luminous smile and eyes.  
The monk was looking for a place to rest while discussing some property matters with Sakurai-san. Sho offered one of the rooms in the house and the monk accepted. When they finished dining and took a walk around the house, the elderly stopped in front of a big mural painted on a canvas on one of the walls. Sho was about to explain it was a family gift when the man spoke:  
\- Such refinded technique, such elegance, such beauty in an artwork.  
He smiled at Sho and turned his gaze back to the painting:  
\- I saw him when he was creating it. He was blessed by the kami.   
Sho couldn’t help a gasp escaping from his mouth.   
\- His mother was the daughter of a dear friend of mine and I used to visit the family quite often.  
Sho felt his whole being breaking. The elder sensed his disturbance and soothed him with gentle gestures.  
\- He asked me one day if two souls could be bound together for eternity. I replied they could if the kami allowed it.  
Sho had to sat on the cushion on the floor because his legs were starting to give up. The old man continued speaking with a soft, calming voice:  
\- He told me this painting was a depiction of the seasons, of the circle of life, of eternity. I said that the kami had imprinted their touch on it thus making it magical. As long as that painting persisted through space and time, the souls he was thinking about would be bound.  
Sho started to cry. He covered his face with his hands. The elderly kneeled by his side and tapped his shoulder.  
\- Eien is a powerful force, you’ll find each other again. Do not worry.

 

That night, Sho dreamt that the painting was being exposed for all people to see, that it was being praised and admired by everyone. That a sort of wizard with the face and body of Aiba-san was entertaining the public and smiling at him.  
The next morning, the monk was gone. His servants hadn’t seen him leave. Sho wondered if it was all part of the dream or even if he was a real monk or a messenger from the kami.  
The only certain thing he knew was that he felt the happiest he had felt in years and absolutely relieved. He stared at the painting for a while, smiled and said:  
\- We’ll meet again, Masaki.


	10. Kokoro no Sora

\- I remember everything! – Sho shouted excitedly when they walked out of the hospital. Masaki was fine and was given the medical discharge.  
\- The cave and our last encounter and the mural in my house. All those dreams I’ve been having since I met you make sense now.

They had decided to stroll for a while before heading to Sho’s apartment. Masaki was feeling strong enough and he wanted to sense the sun on his skin and to listen to the sound of the cicadas. He was alive and awake.  
\- We have to go to Chiba as soon as possible. – He told Sho.  
Sho shook his head:  
\- We can’t. We have work to do. The exposition is getting more and more visitors and we need our Mr. Funk back.  
Masaki smiled and held the other man’s hand.  
\- But I know something that will bring even more visitors to it and will make it the headlines of all the Japanese media.  
Sho stopped walking and looked at him. A mysterious expression was on Masaki’s face.  
\- Don’t you dare to tell our story to anyone. – Sho used a warning tone.  
Masaki started to giggle. A sound that filled the air like the chirping of birds.  
\- I’d never do that! But I know something and someone who can help us.  
Sho was getting impatient and demanding. He wanted to know what Masaki had in mind.  
\- Not until we visit Kameiwa cave. – He said.

 

Aiba Masaki was received with warmth back at the museum the next day. Everyone was happy he was healthy again.   
Mr. Funk was more cheerful than ever and told wonderful stories about that mural that bound souls together. Sakurai-san stopped and listened every time he passed by that room. Yoshida-san noticed he had changed completely: he was still a bit weird but happier which made his job easier. He didn’t talk about ghosts anymore, but he did talk a lot about Heian period and reincarnation

 

Masaki moved from the small hotel he was living to Sho’s apartment. They couldn’t be apart now that they knew the truth. They made love every night as if trying to recover the time lost. Meanwhile, Masaki was planning their trip to Chiba.

 

 

One day, a tall, good-looking young man came to the museum claiming he had an appointment with Aiba-san. Masaki had contacted the University of Tokyo looking for a History student named Kotaki. He needed to consult him about certain matters.  
He took him to the coffeehouse where he used to go when he first arrived to Tokyo and where he fist saw Sho’s eyes in this new life. They ordered a couple of montblancs and some chai. Masaki assured Kotaki-kun that the meeting was strictly professional.  
\- I have a partner now. – He said.  
The student smiled and confessed he was going out with a boy from college.

Masaki sipped from his cup and looked seriously at Kotaki-kun.  
\- Let’s say, if I bring you something, a work of art from Heian, will you be able to verify it is authentic?  
The student blinked in disbelief.  
\- I’m not specialised in history of art but I think I can find somebody who could do it.  
He coughed a bit before adding:  
\- You are working in a museum, I’m sure people there…  
Masaki shook his head vehemently.  
\- I don’t want them involved. It has to be you. – He took a piece of the montblanc and put it in his mouth.  
Kotaki-kun felt confused.  
\- But I don’t know anything about art. Plus, I’m currently working on a research on the shogun wars in Chiba during XII century.  
Masaki smiled broadly and snapped his fingers.  
\- As I expected!- He exclaimed – This is why you’re perfect for it.  
After a bit more chatting, they returned to their respective tasks with the promise to meet again. 

 

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….....

 

It was already mid August and the heat was unbearable, but Masaki had hired a van to drive them to Chiba. Amidst the protests of Sho, he stated it was more romantic and intimate than train or bus.  
They packed their suitcases and started the trip full of expectations. They were going to visit the places where they lived in a past time and they were going to that doomed spot where they said sayonara to each other.

Sho was watching the scenery through the window while Masaki drove and couldn’t help but wonder what really happened.  
\- I don’t know if it’s alright to ask this…..but where did you go after we separated in the cave?  
Masaki sighed. He was bracing for that question since the day the truth was revealed. It had been so painful.  
\- I ran to the beach. There was a ship waiting for me and others there. I met with a youngster from the village who was fleeing from the troops as well. I remember his name: Kotaki Nozomu. We didn’t reach the ship. Samurai had arrived before and burned it.  
Masaki blinked back the tears forming in his eyes.  
\- They took hold of us. They beheaded the young Kotaki first. I saw everything. Then, I closed my eyes, silently prayed for you until darkness bit me.  
Sho caressed Masaki’s cheek and hair.  
\- I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.  
Masaki smiled through the tears. He had found Kotaki-kun too. Life was strange.

 

Their vacation in Chiba was wonderful. They swam in the ocean, ate shellfish and Italian food until they were full, made love under the stars in the small cabin they had hired and walked across the woods that inspired some of Aiba-san paintings.  
Sho remembered the location of his old house. There was a zen temple there now.  
\- So appropriate. – He simply said.  
Not far form there, Aiba family lived. Masaki’s parents wete thrilled to see their son again after a long time and to meet his friend. They stayed in the household a couple of nights until it was time to go to Kameiwa Cave and return to Tokyo afterwards.

 

A soft wind blew when they reached the cave. The water and vegetation acted as freshenings from the heat. Sho choked in seeing the magnificence of the place. He felt all the memories rushing to him: the sorrow but also the happiness. He had loved so much. He hugged Masaki tightly before entering the cave.  
\- For eternity? – He asked.  
\- For eternity. – Replied Masaki.  
They took off their trainers and socks and proceeded to walk carefully over the slippery stones covered in moss. Sho dipped his feet in the water stream, it felt cool and welcoming. Masaki took him by the hand and guided him inside. He knew where he had to go. Little had changed and the kami of the cave had taken care of his treasure. They stopped in front of a rock and Masaki kneeled to dig in the humid soil. He touched something, made a sound like a sob and extracted a wooden box from the hole. Sho looked at him inquisitively. Masaki opened the box and started to shake. Sho took the box from his hands and looked inside. He felt dizzy. It contained a couple of canvas scrolls. He picked one and unrolled it. It was a carbon drawing of a jar and an apple. He unrolled the other one and almost fainted.  
A bigger canvas than the previous one was painted in blue, black, white and red. Like waves of the sea or snow on top of Mount Fuji and a big sun shining upon them. He hadn’t seen anything like it before. It was pure art trespassing all eras. It was beyond its time. Because Sho knew it was painted by artist Aiba Masaki during Heian and they had just discovered it. He put them back in the box with trembling hands.  
\- This is what I was talking about. I knew they were still here. I hid them before running away that fatidic day. – Masaki explained.  
Sho kneeled by his side.  
\- How are we going to explain this?   
Masaki wiped his tears and laughed.  
\- Kotaki-kun knows someone who can help us.  
When Sho opened his eyes and mouth wide in disbelief, Masaki nodded.  
\- He’s here too. Studying shogunate wars at the Tokyo University.  
Sho started to laugh. The wind coming through the cave entrance making a sound similar to a giggle, joining them in their joy.


	11. Make a Wish.

The artist drank from a bottle of water to soothe his dry throat. He couldn’t control his nerves and could not stop tapping his fingers on his lap. He was sitting in a conference room at the museum alongside other guests and media. In front of him, a table with microphones and three chairs. When the manager of the art of Miyabi exposition appeared accompanied by Director-sama and a young student, camera flashes rained on them. They sat down, the college student in the middle, and proceeded to speak. Sakurai-san was wearing an elegant gray suit with a blue tie and carrying something in his hands. The artist smiled proudly: his Sakurai-san was looking stunning.

\- My name is Nozomu Kotaki, I’m a history student at the University of Tokyo. A few weeks ago, a friend of mine came to me because he had found something in the Kameiwa Cave in Chiba while he was exploring the geology there. As a history student, he believed I would be able to identify such finding. After my examination, I concluded that due to the material used in the canvas and the painting, it could be dated to the Heian period. I forwarded it to the head of the history of art department who corroborated my datation and added that the objects found were works of art with the same style and structure of the works exposed in this museum. It could be stated without a doubt that these works of art belong to Miyabi. This is why I contacted Sakurai-san in charge of this exposition.

Masaki nodded at Kotaki-kun. He had done a great job: his words felt convincing and his voice didn’t shake once. Sho looked at Masaki before putting the scrolls on the table. His eyes meeting those of the artist. Masaki smiled and tried to not show how nervous he was.  
\- My name is Sakurai Sho, I was the one who conceived and worked to have Miyabi art at the Ueno Royal Museum. So you can imagine my surprise when this was forwarded to me. – He carefully unrolled the scrolls and showed them to the media. He felt as if he was unveiling a new era name. His picture was going to be everywhere and his image on every tv news program.  
\- Dawn rising over Fujiyama. – He whispered. That was the title of the painting. He had only seen the mountain in books, never in presence, when he painted it. Even now, in Reiwa period, he still hadn’t seen it.  
He remembered his beloved Sakurai-san promising they’d go see the big Fuji together one day because he was so fascinated by what he found on those books. But then war came. And death. And emptiness. And sadness. They could never fulfill their promise.  
Sho announced that the Ueno Royal Museum was creating a permanent exhibition about Miyabi art with those new works included.  
\- We firmly believe the artist who created that magnificent work named Miyabi Night is the same one who did these.  
Sho avoided Masaki’s eyes, He was getting emotional and he knew he would lose his composure if he looked at him at that moment.

 

The press conference took its time. They had to answer plenty of questions, mainly by specialised press, and Director-sama had to give his hyperbolic speech. But it all went smoothly and everybody was left satisfied.  
Afterwards, Director-sama had invited them to drinks in his office.  
Once there, while they were waiting for Sakurai-san, Kotaki-kun approached Masaki.  
\- I still can understand why me.  
Masaki smiled fondly.  
\- You’ll do one day. You’re not ready yet.  
He patted him on the back and added:  
\- I’m so glad to have met you again in this time and place. Now go and be happy.  
The student frowned at the artist, but then shrugged: all artists were weird after all.

 

 

....................................................................................................................................................................................................................

 

It was awfully cold. The chilling wind was getting through his hiking clothes and scratching his skin. The lack of oxigen was making him dizzy and the humidity was blurring his vision. Or were the tears?  
Sho was by his side, breathing in the pure air. People here and there, taking selfies at the small shrine or under the torii.  
\- Look! – Sho shouted – Dawn rising over the Fujiyama!  
Masaki looked in front of him. The darkness was being broken by a redness like that of fire. The whiteness of the clouds melting with the whiteness of the permanent snow. And a blue line was starting to be drawn on the horizon. Just like his painting.  
Masaki couldn’t speak. He was touched by the spectacle of nature.  
\- We’re on top of the Fujisan! We just climbed up here! It’s no time to be quiet. – Exclaimed Sho.  
But Masaki was crying. All the pain, all the despair, all the loneliness were now healed. He stood under the torii and put his hands together in prayer. Sho walked to him and caressed his cheek gently.  
\- All that is gone. We have the present now. – He told him.  
\- To think I despised art.  
Sho smiled:  
\- You’re still not fond of it. Nor us, snotty and uptight museum people.  
Masaki laughed through the tears.  
\- I work in a museum now, what does that make me?  
Sho thought about it for a few seconds and finally said:  
\- But it’s Mr. Funk not you.  
They laughed and hugged while dawn was taking over the blackness in the sky.

 

Before initiating the hike down Fujiyama, Sho prayed at the shrine. When they arrived to one of the stops to rest and have something to eat, Sho asked Masaki:  
\- What did you requested to the mountain?  
\- Nothing. I thanked the kami for our happiness.  
Sho sat on one of the stone benches and looked up at him.  
\- Miyabi Night is what bound us, as long as that painting exists, we’ll be together. So I have asked the mountain to bind us. Fujisan will exist for eternity and so will we.

Daylight welcomed them when they finished the climb down Fujiyama.

 

FIN.


End file.
